


Favorite Sweater

by onmyheart



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-13
Updated: 2012-07-13
Packaged: 2017-11-09 22:01:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/458926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onmyheart/pseuds/onmyheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The season was trasitioning from summer to fall and the weather played tricks on him whenever and if ever he stepped outside the tower. He simply never stood out long enough for his internal clock to note the difference. What was more puzzling was the inexplicable chill that rattled him into finding a sweatshirt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Favorite Sweater

**Author's Note:**

> Trying my hand at fluff. I think I wrote it to fast pace but we'll see. Let me know what you guys think.

"Jarvis, how is it I don't own a single sweater?"

"Is that rhetorical, sir?"

"Is this you humoring me?"

Silence. 

It had never occurred him before that he would ever _need_ one. Certainly not one a commoner would wear. But then again, who would imagine a billionaire in a wife beater? 

The season was trasitioning from summer to fall and the weather played tricks on him whenever and if ever he stepped outside the tower. He simply never stood out long enough for his internal clock to note the difference. What was more puzzling was the inexplicable chill that rattled him into finding a sweatshirt.

The temperature inside was regulated and would change at his command. Thermostats were a thing of the past and he had no need to dwell in it. It was ironic to find himself looking for a sweater he did not own as he essentially owned everything with a designer label stitched to anything resembling fabric. Did designers make such sweaters with hoods? And would simple cotton be their first selection in fabric? He searched his closet despite such questions.

"No skeletons here. Mm. Jarvis, remind me to tell Clint to add sweatshirts to the shopping list when next he goes?"

"Noted. Might you have the need for something else?"

He looked at the hamper holding the many wife beaters that were either singed or oil stained. The latter more noticeable on the few royal blue ones than on the several black. 

"Actually, answer me this: when did I get a hamper? Or should the question be: when did the need for one strike me? And what in the Iron Man's name compelled me to get blue wife beaters?"

"Upon hearing of your tendencies with filthy clothes, Master Rogers acquired a hamper. He was also the one who suggested the blue suited you given the color of your skin."

"Ah!"

 _The man thinks blue looks good on anything,_ he thought to himself. 

"How much more damage has he done to my wardrobe?"

"Damage, sir?"

"Nevermind."

The search in his own closet ended as he figured Steve would not mind to have one of his missing. Of course he owned plenty. Tony turned the knob to Steve's door , opened it and made his way to the closet that closely resembled his own. 

_Mm. What to wear, what to wear._

It was a surprise to him to find a bold red, pullover hoodie in the rim of a plastic hamper. 

_Nice work Rogers. Here I thought your fashion sense was doomed._

Once he pulled it out and over himself he promptly noted the size difference between Steve and himself. He was also made aware of Steve's scent on the slightly faded hoodie. It was a comfortable mixture of sweat, coffee, and cedar wood.

Content with his finding, he proceeded to head back to his lab to finish up the work he had started before the urge for the sweater hit him. In the process of punching in the digits of the code to the lab he noticed the yellow-gold bands at the end of the sleeves that were taut around his wrists. 

_Rogers, you sap._

He grinned. The hood became all the more comfortable. 

Once he crossed the threshold another idea struck. One involving a movie and confections he never favored until Steve made him join him in his education of modern films. Mainly consisting of finer action films and the occasional drama. His lips were now a firm line. 

_And I'm the bad influence._

With a sigh and an eye roll, the couch seemed more welcoming and warm than his welding tools set on maximum temperature. 

Another sigh and he was plopped on the couch that was moved down there on Steve's behalf. The massive flat screen that doubled as one of his many monitors changed from the Stark Industries logo to the home screen of the program Tony designed specifically suited to Steve's technological ineptness. It immediately started playback. 

"Catching up on pop culture all on our own?"

"Oh please, Steven. I am pop culture and of the two down here I would not be the one who needs the catching up." 

A warm chuckle and Steve was next to Tony. 

"When did you get here? I didn't here you come in. Have you been talking to Natasha? Pick up a few tricks?"

"No actually. The screen had all your attention when I came in." A pause. "Is that my sweater?"

"Are you my super soldier?"

"Touché."

"Would you look at that? Whose all caught up with modern dialect," Tony said in a jovial manner, pinching Steve's cheek. 

"You taught me that one."

Upon finishing his sentence, Steve found himself idly stroking his hand up and down the length of Tony's thigh while he set his gaze upon the screen.

"So what are we watching?"

"I don't know, what were you watching last?"

"Mm, something by Tennessee Williams."

_You are a sap._

"Have I told you that I love you lately?" Tony wasn't sure he told him enough times.

"Not lately no."

Tony turned on the couch so as to sneak his cold feet under the warmth of Steve's thighs.

"Your feet are cold."

"And you worry to much."

Steve resumed stroking Tony's thighs that were now at an angle. By the end of the film Tony was slack against the arm of the sofa that held him up.

"You fit me better."

"D'you say something Steve," mumbled Tony with eyes closed and drowsiness of countless sleepless hours.

"That sweater. You fit me better." 

"St-"

Steve collapsed on top of Tony and covered the entire expanse of his body with enough pressure for it to be comfortable.

"Yeah, okay then. I'll just hold on to this. I'm gonna need it whenever your not available as my blanket."

His only response was a kiss to the cheek and the remaining weight Steve withheld.

"Space heater."

"Iron babe."


End file.
